


Won't You Help Me (Make It Through)

by dwarrowkings



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowkings/pseuds/dwarrowkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some pointless Ack Ack/Hillbilly fluff in which no one is called Ack Ack or Hillbilly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Andy's had girlfriends before, knows how this is supposed to go. But somehow it feels more intimate when Eddie touches his wrist to pull his hand away from his face than anything he's done with a girl. <i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't You Help Me (Make It Through)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched the Pacific in forever, I'm sorry if any of this is wrong. I didn't even mean to write this, I was pushed into it!

Andrew isn't thought about her in days, weeks, probably. Time has gone a little by the wayside since he started keeping his time in sips of water and half-eaten meals. Sunsets and sunrises don't mean much to you when you've been marching for days on end. Andy doesn't expect letters from a girlfriend back in the states when the mortar doesn't stop falling, when the spatter of gunfire is his only lullaby. 

He tells Eddie to go to sleep, and Eddie looks like he wants to protest. He opens his mouth to say something in his ridiculous voice, and Andrew brings his fingers up to push his mouth shut before it can say anything. 

"Four hours, Lieutenant," Andy says. Eddie's skin is warm beneath his fingers, gritty to the touch and slightly slick with sweat. "And then you can come bother me about sleep." 

Andy's had girlfriends before, knows how this is supposed to go. But somehow Eddie touching his wrist feels more intimate than anything he's done with a girl. 

"Four hours," Eddie says. "I'll be back to relieve you." 

"I will be relieved," Andy says, and the sunshine seems to darken, a little bit less blindingly hot.

Eddie doesn't leave. He walks around smooths down a place like a cat, and curls his head on a box of mortars. Andy doesn't know if he's really sleeping, but his chest rises and falls evenly, so he's at least resting. Andy watches the outskirts of their outpost stalwartly, looking for the telltale flash of gunfire. He'll see it in the split second before it deafens him.

It's a quiet four hours, and when it's up, Eddie sits up, smooths out his adorably ruffled dirty hair, and touches Andy's hand. This too, seems oddly intimate, even for them. Eddie's calloused fingertips slide across Andy's knuckles, and despite the sticky heat, Andy shivers. 

"Your turn," Eddie says, somewhat sternly.

"Yes sir, Lieutenant, sir." Andy says, sketching out a little salute, half mocking, half serious 

"Here," Eddie says, pulling out his canteen. It doesn't seem to be particularly full, but it isn't empty like a lot of the men's. "Take a drink, and rest a while." 

Andy takes the canteen with almost reverent fingers. Andy grew up catholic, but never really bought into the whole "holy water" deal. Now he gets it. The water tastes like salvation on his tongue; silences his clicking throat. He makes a noise, and takes a second mouthful, just as wonderful as the first, but this time the water settles his stomach for the first time in hours. He hunkers down, pillowing his head on his arms and the mortar box. He doesn't think about going somewhere else to sleep. Sleeping here seemed like the only choice. 

He doesn't figure he'll get much sleep, but Eddie starts humming, and Andy is out before he can recognize the tune.

\--

"It's been quiet today," Eddie says, when Andy wakes up. His eyes feel sleep-crusty and there's ash on his uniform. 

"Yeah," Andy says. "I would be worried, but I'm too tired." 

"Know the feelin'," Eddie says. Andy scrubs at his eyes. He sighs, and says, "How are the men?" He asks. Some of the younger ones are starting to wear thin. Hell, Andy is starting to wear thin, and Eddie looks like he's trying to keep it together. 

"If they don't get shot," Eddie says wryly, "They'll live." It startles a laugh around Andy, and his throat is dry, so it sounds like he stepped on dried leaves. 

Eddie hands him his water canteen again, and Andy waves it away. "You keep it for yourself," Andy says, "I have my own." 

"Yeah, and it's been empty for days. Take a drink. It won't kill you, and I'll feel better knowing you won't keel over on me." 

Andy touches his mouth to the rim of the cannister, and doesn't think about Eddie drinking, doesn't think about Eddie giving away his precious supply. He takes a mouthful and he didn't think that it could feel just as good as earlier, but it does.

Eddie is looking at him strangely, and then Eddie is close. Closer than he was before, but not closer than he's ever been. His fingers twitch, and Andy doesn't know what impulse he's holding back. 

"Thank you," Andy says, with something akin to reverence in his voice. Andy's fingers clench on his pants. He wants to cover Eddie's fingers with his own, but he can't. 

He does it anyway. 

Eddie's fingers stiffen for a second, and then he pushes his knuckles up into Andy's palm, tucking Andy's fingers into his curled fist. His hands are warm and calloused, steady. Andy couldn't do any of this without Eddie backing him up, and he's not sure how to say thank you for that. 

Eddie leans forward, just a little, and Andy pushes forward, presses his mouth against Eddie's. He tastes like ash and dust, but his mouth is warm and wet and, god, it feels so good before Eddie jerks away, eyes wide. 

Andy's stomach drops, and apologies fall from Andy's mouth like stones. Too heavy and too late. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think, I didn't mean... I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I--" 

"Hey," Eddie says, his voice heady and light. He touches Andy's rough cheek with the fingers of his free hand. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Andy." 

Andy can't say anything else, still trying to come up with a way to apologize. 

"I'm sorry," Andy says again, knowing that it's inadequate. 

"I'm not." Eddie says, "I've wanted to do that for a long time, and if you try to take it back, I'm going to be really angry at you." Eddie lifts their joined hands, and kisses Andy's knuckles. 

"I would follow you undo the gates of death itself," Eddie says, and Andy doesn't think about how that's exactly where Andy is leading them. 

Andy takes a deep breath. He feels disoriented, like a mortar dropped and the blast threw his hearing off balance. 

"I don't want you to get hurt, Eddie." 

"I'm not a child, Andy. You can't tell me what's good for me." He presses in close, and Andy can feel Eddie's hot breath ghost across his lips. "I'm a grown boy," Eddie says, "I can make my own mistakes." He presses in, and kisses Andy, and yeah, it's so much better than the first one, because Eddie's mouth is sin incarnate and it feels so good. "Not," Eddie pulls away just far enough to say, "that I think this is a mistake." 

"Grown boy, own mistakes, got it," Andy says, breathless. Eddie kisses him again, and Andy doesn't think about how they're not watching the lines, about how at any moment they could die.  
If they die, they die together, and that's all Andy can ask for.

Eddie wakes up in a train station, washed in white and so bright it hurts. HIs clothes aren't the ones he remembers wearing last. He's in his favorite jeans, and just a t-shirt, white and looser than he remembers it being. 

He doesn't know what to do, so he waits. He's thinking about Andy when Andy shows up, shellshocked and dirty. He's wearing a powder blue button up under a dark green sweater and slacks. He looks so good, and so far out of Eddie's reach that he's surprised that he ever got to touch him in the first place. 

"Eddie," Andy breathes, relieved and worried and upset all at once. Eddie tastes blood in the back of his mouth, and gets a flash of dark green and mud and the stench of decaying flesh. The blue blue sky swirled with smoke and white clouds. 

"Andy," Eddie says, trying and failing not to sound desperate. 

"Christ," Andy says, he takes two big steps and then he's dropping to one knee in front of where Eddie is sitting, pressing his forehead to the top of Eddie's thigh, sucking in deep, steadying breaths. 

Eddie touches the back of his hair, soft and slightly curly, and it feels like silk under his fingers. 

"I'm so glad you're here." Andy says, and Eddie doesn't say it, but he thinks "me too" with his whole body.

\--

They walk out of the station, hand in hand, into the sunshine. Andy doesn't know where they're going, but Eddie has a pretty good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Jessi, who cried at me a little about Ack Ack/Hillbilly, and I was like "let's ruin her." And then this happened. I'm pretty sure I won't survive the week, because my friends are gonna punch me in every feel I have for this. Sorry not sorry guys!


End file.
